


What We Need

by slashsailing



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Collars, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feeding, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mirrors, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness, Power Play, Praise Kink, Rutting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 16:55:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1948989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashsailing/pseuds/slashsailing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim has a very particular way of dealing with the fall-out of everything he's been through after the events of Into Darkness, but he needs Leonard's help if he's really going to work through his new found feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Need

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Good Boy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1797448) by [triedunture](https://archiveofourown.org/users/triedunture/pseuds/triedunture). 



When the events surrounding Marcus and Khan are finally over—when Jim has been restored to life and full health, when the trials have been held and the internal investigations written up into neat little reports, when the funeral and memorial services have been held and the speeches of apology and lost have been concluded—Jim Kirk feels decidedly numb. 

He has lost his mentor, some of his crew and his life—although he was given that one back—and only now, after months of Starfleet procedure, is he truly able to mourn. 

Leonard sees the way Jim looks nowadays, like he's lost and broken and has absolutely no idea where his next step should be. Leonard doesn't have to be his best friend to see the doubt and the guilt— _the shame_ —that encloses him, although it helps. 

Jim can't hide anything from Leonard. They have come too far together, nearing five years of unwavering friendship. Leonard knows the shallowness of Jim's breathing is not because he is overtaxing himself every day in the gym, but because the weight of Jim's failure—or at least that's how Jim sees it—is crushing him, compressing his lungs into nothing.  

Leonard cannot let Jim bear that weight alone. 

"You did good today," Leonard whispers when they exit the debriefing room. Jim was well composed and eloquent. Jim's reigns on control are tight like nooses and they wrap around him, keeping him in line. Leonard wonders what would happen if he were to cut them, would Jim fall to the ground like a lifeless puppet? Leonard shakes his head;  _of course not_ , because Leonard would be there to catch him. 

"Yeah?" Jim smiles, reassured by Leonard's praise. It reminds Leonard of how they were in their first term of the Academy, feeding each other encouragement and reassurance like it was their best source of nutrition. Their very own human catnip. 

"You're still our Captain, Jim," Leonard promises, letting his fingers reach out and touch Jim's upper arm, hand curling around Jim's shirted biceps. Jim skin is cold under the shirt where Leonard's hand is warm, so Leonard starts to rub his hand back and forth. The movement might have caused Jim to laugh or make a mother-hen joke in the past, but now he just closes his eyes and inhales deeply. A steadying breath. A reprieve from all the havoc running riot around his head. 

"Thanks, Bones," Jim whispers, swallowing. "I've gotta meet up with Komack," he says awkwardly, waiting for something. 

Leonard frowns, he usually knows what Jim wants—usually because Jim is quite vocal with his desires—but he can't decipher the look in Jim's eyes. There's a need to be fulfilled here, that much Leonard does know, but what? 

"I'll pick you up after, if you like?" Leonard offers, almost reflexively, subconscious taking over. "We'll get dinner?" 

"Thanks." Jim beams, and turns back down the hallway in the direction of Komack's office. 

—

And so Leonard turns up outside Komack's door two hours later and he guides Jim in the direction of a favoured diner. They discuss Jim's meeting in clipped sentences—Jim doesn't want to talk about Starfleet anymore, Leonard gets the hint—before they mull over their choices from the menu. Why they bother is beyond Leonard; they get pretty much the same meals every time, opting for something different once in a blue moon and instantly regretting it.

But Jim is frowning at the menu, like he can no longer read standard. Leonard's never seen Jim flounder over food.

"If you don't pick something soon, I'm ordering you a salad," Leonard jibes, trying to lighten the mood. To his surprise Jim's eyes light up, for a second Leonard expects a bit of playful banter, is hopeful for it even, but he quickly realises the prospect of a salad is what's stirred Jim to animation.

It irks Leonard and he wonders if this is Jim's idea of a joke. For a moment, Leonard entertains the thought that Jim is actually taking his health advice for once, but even after death, salad seems an unlikely choice for Jim Kirk. 

The waitress comes over and Leonard orders some fried chicken. He needs homey and familiar right now, especially with how off-kilter Jim's acting. 

The waitress looks to Jim who frowns at Leonard before sighing dejectedly and ordering a hamburger. 

When the food comes, Jim spends most of his time tearing the burger into little pieces and pushing it around his plate. Leonard feels like there's something missing, something that he should be doing to restore that smile to Jim's face. That's not quite right, actually Leonard feels like he's done something wrong. 

"Have I upset you?" he asks. 

"Of course not," Jim is quick to say, and Leonard feels Jim's heart leap into his throat and tries to calm him with a hand on his wrist, quelling it's movements over Jim's plate. 

Their eyes meet and Leonard snatches his hand back. 

"If you're sure," he mutters. 

They finish their meal in silence, Jim leaving most of his and not even attempting to suggest dessert. 

—

It's a few days before Leonard sees Jim again. So he calls him and invites him over. Jim comes eagerly, like a dog tailing the sound of his owner's whistle across the park. 

Leonard breathes easier, seeing Jim with light in his eyes and a smile on his face. They sit down together and watch a movie on the couch, Leonard ordering Chinese and chastising Jim about it.

"It was your idea," Jim reminds with a coquettish smile. "I'm only eating what you feed me."

Leonard frowns at that comment. "You want something else?" he wonders consciously.  

"Of course not." Jim shakes his head. "You know I'm not picky."

Blue eyes are watching Leonard, waiting for a response. 

"I know you're not," is all he can manage, a chump of fear and anticipation—of what, he has no idea—lodged in his throat. He's meant to say something else, he knows, but the doorbell rings and he jumps up to retrieve it. 

"Stay put," he murmurs in Jim's direction. Jim just nods gently, smiling the way he was over the threatened bowl of salad three days ago. 

When Leonard returns to the couch, Jim is sitting on the floor. 

"I thought I told you to stay put," Leonard scoffs. "What're you doing on the floor?"

"I like it down here," Jim says with a shrug, tucking his crossed legs in tighter. Leonard dishes their plates and hands Jim his, they eat in silence. It's thick and heavy like the dark sauce coating Leonard's duck. Sticky too, so much so Leonard wonders if he'll be bound to this spot forever, in this crude, uncharacteristic silence. 

"Thanks," Jim says when he's finished. He leans his head against Leonard's knee and—by instinctual compulsion—Leonard runs a hand through Jim's hair, stroking softly but thoroughly, nails scratching over his scalp until Jim moans. 

They both stop. 

"Sorry," Leonard grits out. 

"Don't be." Jim's whispering but Leonard knows a plea when he hears one. 

"Jim?" 

"I should go," Jim pants, scrambling to his feet. Leonard stands too and remembers he's an inch or two taller than Jim, he reaches out deftly, catching Jim's wrist like a snake coiled around their prey. It frightens Leonard that Jim leans  _into_ the harsh touch, so he lets go, watching Jim sag. 

"Don't go. You don't need to go. You need to talk to me." 

"There's nothing to say." 

"You ain't gotta lie to me, Jim."

Leonard doesn't mean to look as angry as he feels right now, he's not even sure why he's angry, but he takes hold of Jim's wrist again and tugs him closer until Jim can't avoid his gaze. 

"I can't—I don't know what it is. How to say it. I—"

Jim looks hysterical, like all that tight control he's been exhibiting in public has been used up and now he's running on frantic energy. It's a facade, Leonard knows that, he knows that Jim is struggling, but not like this he never thought—

Leonard pulls him into a tight embrace. 

"I've got you. I promise, Jim. I'm not going anywhere, it's okay. Just, just tell me what you need, okay? I need to know what's wrong, I need to know so I can take care of you." 

"Take care of me?" 

"I know you're a big Starfleet Captain but you look like you're running on empty Jim. I won't—I know you don't wanna be coddled—"

"That's exactly what I want," Jim whispers, and Leonard almost misses it. 

"Jim?" 

"It's nothing," Jim says quickly, trying to pull out of Leonard's arms. 

"Don't squirm," Leonard huffs, holding him tighter until Jim stills. It feels strange, to have Jim so plaint against him—almost unnatural. 

"I just—there're all these things I have to take care of and I—"

"You need to be taken care of too," Leonard finishes and Jim nods against his chest. 

"When I'm out there I have to be so in control, everyone looking to me for answers." 

"I've got you," Leonard mumbles into Jim's hair. "If you trust me, Jim—"

"Of course I do. I always do."

"Then I'm here, whatever you need." 

"Bones," Jim whispers, voice almost euphoric, twisting with gratitude. 

"What am I doing here, Jim? Tell me what you want." 

Jim doesn't pull his face away from Leonard's body. 

Jim answers means he's the one in control. Leonard had to figure this out for himself, for both of them. He runs his hands through Jim's hair again, scratching lightly over his nape. Jim sighs contented, shoulder muscles unbunching. 

"What is it about this that you like?" Leonard wonders. 

"It's nice." 

"Nice how?" 

"I—it feels like a treat, like something I earned. It's hard to explain." 

"The other day in the diner, you wanted me to order for you."

It isn't a question. 

"You know about that stuff," Jim says vaguely. 

"About you stuff or about food stuff?" 

"Both." 

Leonard's starting to get it now. 

Leonard disentangles himself from Jim. "You've been good, to tell me all of this," Leonard starts, hesitant at first. "So I'm gonna sit on the couch and you're going to curl up beside me, you're gonna lay your head on my thigh and I'm gonna—I'm gonna play with your hair until you fall asleep."

Jim just nods. Like he's being given every birthday and Christmas present he missed out on as a child. 

It doesn't take Jim long to fall asleep at all. And, hand still buried in Jim's hair, Leonard's not too far behind him.  

—

"Where are we going with this, Jim?" Leonard asks over breakfast. "What do you expect from me?" 

"We go wherever you lead." Jim shrugs, like it's ever been that simple. Leonard feels the development of new responsibilities, and extensions of old ones: to protect Jim, to support him. 

"What if I lead you somewhere you don't wanna be?"

"I'll say Narada." 

"Narada?" 

"Somewhere I don't wanna be, right?" 

Leonard can't help but laugh and the sound of it echos in Jim, making him grin, pleased with himself. "Trust you," Leonard murmurs fondly. 

"I'd rather trust you," Jim says. 

Leonard nods, turning back to the stove and finishing up cooking their breakfast, he plates it and sets Jim's down in front of him, sans cutlery. Jim looks up at him, watching with wide eys as Leonard washes his hand and pulls his chair around to the other side of the table, at the edge beside Jim. 

"You eat all this, and we can talk about another treat, okay?" 

"What kind of treat?" Jim wonders, bashful. 

"You gotta eat your breakfast first," is all Leonard says. Heart pounding. He shakily cuts the pancakes, making sure each bite of batter has a piece of strawberry or a raspberry attached to it. 

Jim eats with care but perfunctorily, and Leonard can't help but watch as the pink and red bursts of fruit stains his lips. 

Leonard averts his gaze. That isn't what Jim asked for. 

"Well done, Jim. I'm proud of you," Leonard says when they're finished. "Go and sit on the edge of the bath and I'll wash your face."

Jim smiles, the small sort of smile people exhibit before they begin to cry with relief, or joy. 

Leonard doesn't know what he's gotten himself into. But he's here now, letting Jim convince him to wash, dry and comb his hair too. 

They're four minutes late for a meeting. But Jim is smiling. 

—

Sometimes they go days without any of the  _care_ stuff. They're both busy men, Leonard presiding over Starfleet Medical as Phil Boyce's second-in-command, while Jim overhauls command procedures in order to re-establish Starfleet as a safe, incorruptible force. 

But then Leonard sees Jim slump forward again, like he can't hold himself up, and Leonard will take him by the arm, pulling him along the corridors and the streets until they're back in Leonard's apartment, Jim sitting at Leonard's feet while Leonard reads to him and strokes his hair. 

There are days when Jim plays up on purpose, like a dog shredding the morning newspaper. There can't be treats then, Jim needs to be reprimanded. "No," Leonard will say. "Don't be naughty."

Leonard's voice is firm, but he worries at times like this. Caring for Jim has always been easy and, even with this jump that they've taken, Leonard finds it easy to wash and feed and hold Jim. Punishment, though? That's a difficult part. 

One afternoon when the Enterprise's senior staff are out to dinner, Jim snaps at Nyota. It's bitchy and it's uncalled for and it makes Leonard angry because that isn't how Jim is supposed to behave. 

"Jim," Leonard grits out. "A word?" 

There is fight in Jim's eyes, and Leonard waits to see if he will be disobeyed. With a huff, Jim stands. Leonard apologising to Nyota as he marches Jim across the restaurant to a dark spot by the entrance. 

"You can't speak to people like that, especially not Nyota. So behave yourself, Jim."

"I didn't mean to," Jim looks ashamed and broken and oh so tired. 

"Go over and apologise, eat the rest of your meal and stay quiet if you can't be nice. We'll talk about it when we get home." 

"Can't we go now?" 

" _Jim._ " 

—

The rest of the meal passes without incident; it's not until they get home that Jim starts acting up again. He slams the door behind him paces across the sitting room. 

"Stay still," Leonard orders. 

Jim closes his eyes, stops dead. 

Leonard unbuttons Jim's shirt, folds it, and sets it aside. He leads Jim into the bathroom, running the faucet and filling the tub with bubbles. He orders Jim to sit on the toilet lid, lathering up shaving foam and pulling a razor over Jim's stubble. Since their arrangement, Jim only shaves when Leonard is there to do it. It's been three days since his last shave. 

"Have a bath, relax, try not to think too much." 

"Stay," Jim pleads, looking at the water. 

Leonard's stomach flip-flops. 

"I know I haven't been good—"

"You haven't," Leonard agrees and it breaks his heart. "Have a bath, Jim. Then I'll get you ready for bed." 

Jim nods, understanding. He has to earn treats. 

After Leonard exits the bathroom, he putters around his apartment, tidying things and setting Jim's pyjamas out on the bed. They haven't slept in the same bed, it would move what they have to a place Leonard isn't sure he's supposed to lead them. But tonight is different. Tonight he is just as worn out and needy as Jim is, and he's had to tell Jim no. He hates having to tell Jim no. 

When Leonard re-enters the bathroom Jim is stood with a towel wrapped around his waist. 

The decision is made before Leonard realises what's happening. 

Stepping into the room he turns Jim around to face the mirror, the heat of his chest warm against Jim's cool, still-wet back. Leonard undoes the towel and pulls it around Jim's shoulders instead, drying him in rhythmic, sure swipes. Jim lifts his arms when he needs to and tilts his head so Leonard can cradle his neck.

"Look in the mirror, Jim," Leonard says. "Look at us."

Jim complies, his breathing quickens.

"I've got you," Leonard promises. "Can you see?"

Jim nods. "I was wrong. With Nyota."

"You were tired. It's okay. You apologised. You made it better."

Jim just lets Leonard's words wash over him.

"You're good, Jim. So good. I'm proud to know you. I'm proud to be your friend."

The mirror reflects Jim's smile and Leonard feels okay again.

"Come on." Leonard guides Jim to the bedroom, dresses him, neither of them awake enough to be thrown by Jim's temporary nudity. Jim holds Leonard's shoulders as he steps, one foot after the other, into Leonard's pyjama pants. Leonard pulls one of his favourite sweatshirts over Jim's head too. It's cold outside and Leonard has to protect Jim from that, because Jim leaves himself powerless to do the same.

Leonard lies on the bed and lets Jim curl around his legs like a cat. They're asleep within minutes.

—

 His morning erection isn't entirely a surprise; but nudging it forward into the curve of Jim's backside? Yeah, that's unexpected. This isn’t how Leonard imagined the morning would go. This isn’t what he planned for.

Softly, he sets a hand on Jim’s hip and shifts back. But, in a typically canine manner, Jim just moves back with him, chasing Leonard’s heat.

“Jim,” Leonard chides.

“Please, Bones,” Jim murmurs, curving his back so that his ass is pressed tight against Leonard’s crotch. “I’ve been good.”

“We can’t, Jim. This is different.”

But Leonard’s words don’t match his actions as he slips a hand under his sweatshirt to stroke Jim’s abdomen, feeling the ridges as Jim’s muscles clench and relax in anticipation. All of a sudden desire springs up inside Leonard, and he can't stop himself from rolling his hips against Jim. Jim is pliant for a moment before he whines, bucking his hips forward. Leonard gets the hint and lets his hand fall away from Jim’s stomach to cup Jim’s erection, giving him the delicious friction he needs. Their orgasms hit quickly, leaving them sticky inside their sleep pants.

A wave of guilt hits him as the haze of the morning clears and the charged atmosphere dissipates.

“I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t be,” Jim whispers, trying to push himself even closer to Leonard.

“You want this?” Leonard asks, confused. “You really want this?”

Jim tenses. “Why?” he demands, turning to face Leonard, sneering like a dog with bared teeth. “Does it disgust you that much?”

“No. Jim, no. Of course not.” Leonard leans forward, hazel eyes wide with guilt. “I never meant it like that. I just—I didn’t know.”

“I need this, Bones. I want this. With you.”

“I’m trying to do right by you, Jim.”

“By _me_? What about us? I thought we were _both_ in this?”

“I don’t want to take advantage.”

“Fuck off,” Jim growls. “I’m not a child. I have autonomy, Bones. I’m fucking choosing this. I’m choosing _you_.”

“I—“

“You enjoy this too. I know you do. And you love me. So, I don’t understand. This is the next step, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t know this would become a sex thing,” Leonard whispers.

Jim barks out a laugh, like Leonard is a naïve little child, and sets his head on Jim’s hip.

“We’ve always had something haven’t we? I just didn’t see it. Or I wasn’t ready. But with all this—you’re, you’re my person, Bones. I trust you. I want you around.”

“Your person?” Leonard smiles. “You’re not a dog, Jim.”

“You have to admit…” He smirks. “There is something very canine about me.”

“Like a golden retriever, yeah.”

“All I need now is a collar and a lead,” Jim jokes. But then the atmosphere changes and Leonard eyes Jim with something like caution.

“That’s the sort of thing you have to earn, Jim. Be a good boy and we’ll see.”

—

Jim behaves spectacularly over the next few weeks, Leonard makes sure to comment on the fact regularly, setting aside ample time to stroke Jim’s hair and suck his cock by way of reward.

They don’t talk about the collar or leash, Jim doesn’t ask, doesn’t prod or prompt or demand. Leonard takes his time trying to find one he likes, one that he can imagine around Jims pristine throat.

When he finally finds it, he makes sure Jim doesn’t suspect.             

He feeds Jim pizza, taking his time cutting it into little squares, making Jim eat slowly. Then they bath together, Leonard washing Jim’s hair and letting Jim shave him by the sink. Leonard dresses himself but leaves Jim without clothes; this must spike Jim’s curiosity because he eyes the bedroom warily.

There’s a box on the bed. A nondescript white box.

“It’s for you, Jim,” Leonard encourages.

The collar is dark blue velvet, and the leash is made of the same material. It is heavy and stiff, but Leonard knows Jim’s neck measurement and had it tailored to fit.

“If found please return to Leonard McCoy, MD,” Jim read the square silver tag. “MD? Ever the doctor.”

“Of course.” Leonard smiles.

“Will you?” Jim hands the collar to Leonard, who takes it, unclipping it and securing it around Jim’s neck.

“Do you like it?” Leonard asks, his heart racing.

Jim’s hand comes up to fiddle with the tag, moving to the mirror to look at himself, completely naked save for the break of dark blue velvet.

“It’s perfect,” Jim breathes.

“You are,” Leonard agrees and Jim’s smile cracks his face in two. “The collar is nice too.”

“Only nice?”

Leonard smirks, standing behind Jim and kissing his shoulder.

“A little more than nice,” Leonard grants, letting his hands trail down over Jim’s ribs, caressing his hips. “Look at yourself, Jim. Tell me what you see.”

“I—“

“I’ve got you,” Leonard promises. “I’m here.”

“I see me and you.”

“Don’t look at me. You, Jim,” he reminds.

“Failure,” Jim whispers. “Death.”

Those two words kill Leonard; almost bring him to his damn knees.

“Can I tell you what I see?” After a moment of consideration, Jim nods. “I see strength and goodness. I see loyalty and love. My good boy. That’s what I see. All rounded up into pretty blue eyes an’ creamy skin.”

“ _Bones._ ” Jim sounds like he’s about to argue but he stops, looking up at the ceiling to stop tears from falling.

“I know,” Leonard murmurs, kissing Jim’s shoulder again, and then his neck where skin meets velvet. “But you’re not to blame, Jim. You’re beautiful. An’ I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m tired,” Jim whispers.

Leonard drags him down onto their bed, pulling him into a tight embrace, one that demobilises Jim completely. Leonard’s arms wrapped around his torso and a leg slung over Jim’s thighs.

“There’s no lead.”

“Wouldn’t like to be accused of spoilin’ you, Jim. Anyhow, I know you like having something to work towards.”  

“I’ll be good.” Jim smirks. “So good you won’t know what hit you.”

“I look forward to it.”


End file.
